Arthur Kirkland's Ex
by ArthurIsAwesome
Summary: Arthur and Alfred were always meant to be, right? What happens when Arthur tells his new boyfriend about his old relationship with Francis? UsUk with a lot of past!Fruk, and a brief and un-impressive sex scene. Human names used.


**Summary: Alfred and Arthur were meant to be, right? But what happens when an angry Frenchman spills a secret that Arthur has been trying to hide from his new lover for months? **

**Author's Note: So... I was originally going to just do a UsUk and AusHun with this type of prompt, then I wanted to do a whole bunch of pairings, and then I decided that I'd just do UsUk and if I have the time or the desire I'll do a separate fic for Austria another time... No one seemed to like the last fic I did for him though, so Idk. He's a very under-appreciated character. And he has weird pairings because if you put him with Hungary OH NOES ITS STRAIGHT and no one writes for the straight couples, and if you put him with Prussia or Germany... It's just a little bit weird.**

**Also, this would've been posted like OVER A WEEK AGO but... the cursed error... *sighs* Not the time to rant. And looking back over this, it was typed... Very poorly. But I'm busy working on another UsUk fic (multi-chaptered, AU, Already have the first two chapters typed but I probably won't post anything until I'm at least done with the fifth) so I don't have the motivation to fix this...**

**Warning: Imagine my surprise went I read through this and only found like NO curse words? There is also a poorly depicted sex scene, which is why I'm rating it M.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own... Never mind... -sigh-**

**.::.**

Arthur exhaled slowly, walking off the plane with sore legs, tugging his two large, black suitcases behind him. He cracked his neck tiredly, stifling a yawn that had been building up for a while. Oh, how he completely loathed plane rides! Not that he had much choice, considering that they were quite a bit faster than traveling across the Atlantic ocean than a boat was (and he couldn't just order his boss to give him a boat to sail these days...). However, being high up in the air always made him regret every moment that he had decided to step onto the wild sky-vehicle. Sailing was what he did.

Flying was _all _Alfred's.

Originally, Arthur had been extremely jealous of the high-flying American. He couldn't stand that his former little brother could do something better than him, especially when his own air force was, or at least had been?, pretty decent itself. When Alfred was up there in his strangely (stupidly) painted plane, he looked so impressive...

Of course, Alfred's flying hadn't been _all _fun and games.

Deciding not to draw up memories of World War Two, back when Arthur could hardly stand the loud fool, he looked around the airport. He would never admit to anyone that being alone in a loud, crowded terminal frightened him a tiny bit. When he didn't see Alfred anywhere nearby, he frowned and tried walking to the entrance of the airport. Before he made it out the door, a tall nation was laughing and hugging him, lifting him off the ground.

"Hey, Arthur!"

Smiling only very slightly, Arthur wrapped his arms around his lover's neck and replied,"Hello, Alfred."

The two caught a taxi quickly, and the ride home to Alfred's house went by in a flash. Alfred kept wiggling his eyebrows and making funny faces at Arthur in the back seat, and Arthur did all he could not to chuckle at the foolish young nation beside him. When they arrived at their destination, Arthur tipped the cab driver well and Alfred got all of his boyfriend's luggage from the trunk.

"You don't have to carry all of that, love,"Arthur insisted, grabbing a suitcase from the taller nation. While he did appreciate how helpful (and, fine, _heroic_) Alfred was, he still had a certain sense of responsibility around Alfred, and felt that he should be the one carrying all of his luggage. It wasn't like he was the girl in the relationsh- … Actually, he probably was, not that he minded too much.

Alfred unlocked the door quickly, and then they dropped Arthur's things in the living room. Taking a look around, Arthur tried to pinpoint the things that had changed since his last visit. Something _always _did, as if Alfred did it on purpose to keep the older nation on his toes. This time, however, the difference wasn't all that hard to find.

"Alfred," he began slowly,"what is that thing in the middle of the room?"

Laughing broadly, the American cried,"Oh, _that _thing? That's Tony's, I don't know."

It looked like a small spacecraft, and it had strange symbols painted on the sides. Where is sat is where Alfred's coffee table used to be, but now it was just broken shards of wood under the large metal whatsit. Shaking his head slowly, Arthur murmured,"I have no bloody idea how you put up with an _alien_."

Alfred snorted and replied hotly,"I don't know how you put up with Francis! It's like every time I go over to your house, he's just _there_. Sitting on your couch with his dumb accent and his dumb outfits, and you act like you don't even _care_. What's up with _that_?"

Waving his hands around animatedly, Arthur scoffed,"Oh come on Alfred, he's not that bad when he isn't being a pervert. While I do hate the bloody frog with a passion, he's always been there for me whether I wanted him to be or not. You know, the old love-hate relationship crap. He's basically an older brother type figure to me, to quite a few of us European nations actually."

Grabbing Arthur firmly by his waist, Alfred pulled him backwards until the two plopped ungracefully onto the American's large fluffy couch with Arthur landing on top of his rambunctious former charge. Then went the routine of Arthur pretending to be annoyed and Alfred being oblivious, nuzzling the shorter nations' hair and kissing his forehead, causing him to sputter and finally give into the affection, resting his head on the taller nation's chest.

"Older brother type figure, huh? That's not what _he _told me."

Shocked, the Englishman looked up into the American's face, slightly mystified. "Whatever do you mean '_he_' told you? Francis? What'd the frog say this time?"

Shrugging moodily, Alfred replied,"Well, a few weeks back, I went over to Mattie's place 'cause I was bored and he lives closer to me than you do, 'sides, you would've gotten pissed if I dropped in unannounced." Arthur figured that was probably true, but it hurt him a little when his boyfriend thought he wasn't welcome in his home.

"So anyway, I took a plane to Mattie's, and Francis was there, trying to get into my bro's pants like usual. Since I'm the hero, I totally arrived just in time, and Matthew was all 'OMG thank you Alfred' and I was like 'It's not big dealio, little bro!' And then Francis started acting all, well, _Francis_, and was like 'Ow eez _Anglettere_ doing?' So _I _was like-"

"Bloody hell!" Arthur snapped, rolling off of the younger nation and flopping onto the floor. Blushing, he sat up and moved to the foot of the couch, lifting Alfred's feet and placing them back down on his lap. "Will you get to the _point_, Alfred? Honestly, you're starting to bore me to death."

Scowling slightly, Alfred continued,"Well, anyways, he asked me how you were doing now that we're together, and I hope you're doing great because that's what I told him. Then, he started asking how good you were in bed, and I was all 'LOL Francis you're being a creeper'. And he started asking all this stuff that was really scary..."

Lazily removing Alfred's shoes, Arthur smirked,"Scary? Like what?"

"W-Well..." the American was having a hard time finding his voice. It felt weird bringing up what Francis had been saying, since a lot of it was really embarrassing. "He started asking if I knew about... That one spot, on your collar bone..." Arthur flushed then, his skin heating up unbearably. Why did Francis have to bring _that _up?

"I mean, I knew you weren't a virgin... But Francis? Really, Arthur? And you didn't even tell me?"

A dark blush enveloped the Brit's body, and it was most certainly _not _the pleasant kind you get when the person you love gives you a quick kiss on the cheek or holds your hand in public. This kind of blush was a strangling, embarrassed, death-ensuing blush that made Arthur feel ashamed.

"W-Well, you see, Alfred... That was a _very _long time ago. Before World War Two. Before World War One, even. It's really not important anymore..."

However, Alfred was sitting up, pulling his knees to his chest. Without his body sprawled on the couch, the two were sitting on complete opposite sides, which made Arthur feel a little broken. Pushing his glasses up higher on his nose, the younger nation wore a serious face, his features tinted with disbelief and... Anger? Or perhaps more accurate would be jealously?

"Were there any others? Besides Francis?"

The Englishman's gaze left the man on the couch and locked with the window instead, as if he were studying the clouds. Clearing his throat, he muttered,"A few. Of course, with Francis I was probably the most intimate. I had a very short relationship with Kiku, but... There were unresolved tensions, and it only lasted a few weeks. I never loved Antonio, but back when I was a pirate... When I was _younger_, I tended to... _Assert _myself on others... And then I had a one-night fling with Gilbert, but I won't even get into _that _one. I was very drunk, and very angry..."

Upon hearing all of this, Alfred narrowed his blue eyes in both disgust and this time _definitely_ anger. Arthur was afraid to look back at him, a bit worried. It's not like he cared about any of those nations anymore, he only wanted Alfred now. It had always been Alfred, really, that was the perfect match for him and he knew it. But two out of the four incidents mentioned above had _started_ before Alfred was even grown up, before he had even started to love him in that new way, and considering the whole Antonio thing wasn't as much "romantic" as it was "mutual rape", his only true relationship other than with Alfred had been with the Frenchman, even though that relationship had gone down the toilet partially _because_ of Alfred.

"What was it like? To be with Francis, I mean." Alfred finally asked, Nantucket drooping ever-so-slightly. Slowly returning his gaze to the American's face, Arthur struggled to form words.

"It was... Very interesting..."

**.::.**

_Arthur had remembered the day that his boss had sent him to across the Atlantic, telling him that he needed to go discover the New World, considering other nations were already visiting and attempting to build settlements there. Upon hearing that Francis had already gone, Arthur was more than willing to set sail for the land he promised to claim "New England"._

_He had arrived alone, ordering the crew the stay on the ship while he explored, promising to be back before sundown. It wasn't surprising when he found Francis about an hour later with his pants rolled up, standing roughly knee-deep in a river. The river was flowing slowly, and he was watching the water intently with his bright blue eyes. Arthur smirked, calling out a bit fondly,"Oi, Frog-face!"_

_The Frenchman jerked, flailing wildly, but did not topple over into the water. Catching himself, he narrowed those bright eyes of his as he brushed off his ridiculous French outfit and smirked,"'Ello, Anglettere! What brings you to ze New World zis early in ze morning?"_

_Mocking amusement, the younger Englishman approached the riverbank and peered into the clear, blue water. "What are you doing?"_

_Francis smirked, winking, and replied airily,"Honhonhon, I'm fishing with my 'ands. It is proving to be quite difficult, non? Care to join me, caterpillar face?"_

_The green-eyed nation scoffed, but pulled up his pant legs anyway. Stepping into the chilly river, he walked over to stand beside Francis, letting the water rush past his legs soothingly. "Stand still, mon petit lapin, or you'll scare ze fish away."_

_Even though he wanted to snap at Francis for telling him what he should do, Arthur did as he was bid, standing very still as he watched fish swim to and fro in the river. Francis looked pretty concentrated, and the younger Englishman admired how grown up the Frenchman could act when he wanted to. His blond hair was hanging down, draping over his face, his hands poised over the water excitedly._

_Watching Francis trying to catch fish was very amusing, and when Francis finally did catch a fish, Arthur was about to cry out in amazement when he heard sniffling coming from the opposite bank._

"_Seriously you guys, this isn't funny anymore! It's so mean and cruel and stupid!"_

_The Englishman was a bit surprised to see the Finnish nation in the new world, but then again he wasn't alarmed. He knew many nations had come and tried to settle here, and Finland was probably one of the least of his worries. He saw Francis try to maintain a death grip on the fish he had caught while he prompted,"Eh... Tell us what 'appened to you, Finland."_

"_Did you get your head stuck in the butter churn again?"_

_Normally, watching smaller and more pathetic nations hurt was a bit fun and amusing in the short nation's eyes, but to see it happen to Tino was just sad. Tino was such a nice lad, who never talked back or tried to claim he was better than anyone, and picking on him just seemed cruel, nation or not. As the other blond began going off about Sweden and the Netherlands, Arthur found he didn't care much about what Tino was saying, but pretended to listen intently._

"_That's really embarrassing,"Arthur offered at the end of the Finnish nation's small rant._

"_'ey, I caught a fish with my 'ands,"Francis finally announced. Arthur wanted to grunt out a reply about how stupid it was to announce that after holding the damn thing for minutes, but decided to let it slide._

_Arthur sneered, thinking 'This whole country will be mine anyway.' He just _knew _it would be, he could feel it in his bones, and that feeling was almost never wrong! _

**.::.**

_Straightening his bow tie expertly, Arthur pulled on his expensive, dark coat and plopped his large, black top hat onto his blond, messy-haired head. He had brushed through it repeatedly, but it was still a bit wild, not that he cared. He knew very well that his wild hair suited him, whether the other nations were willing to admit it or not. Grabbing his long, glossy black walking stick he smirked, tugging on some white gloves as he stepped out of his house and into the twilight._

_There was a formal gathering, a ball of sorts, that the young master Roderich Edelstein was hosting. The polite man had invited all of the nations, aside from the ones on the North American continent and the Asian countries. The United States of America and Canada both were not very chummy with the European nations as they used to be, at least not yet, not that any of the self-respecting nations cared. As for the Asian countries, Roderich simply didn't know them, not that many of the others did on a drastically intimate level._

_Arthur, for one, was very glad that Alfred F. Jones was not attending. It had been about thirty or so years since the Revolutionary War, and the older blond nation was not ready to forgive the brat anytime soon. And, of course, Alfred and his brother were not nearly grown up enough to attend such a formal get-together, they'd both end up behaving like idiots, he was sure. Then again, Matthew had always been such a quiet and respectable boy, so perhaps he would've done well._

_Stepping into his large, black, and rather ornate carriage, he told his personal driver where to go. Roderich had many homes, like all the young, wealthy nations did. Most tried to keep one in every European country, and this party was being hosted in London, much to Arthur's pleasure. Part of him thought Roderich had chosen the location just to warm up to the cold-hearted Brit. Arthur wouldn't fall for it, of course, because he knew how to play the impress-me game better than anyone, and he always won._

_After about twenty minutes, he arrived at his destination, stepping down from the carriage, giving both of the large, black horses a pat on the nose before telling his driver to pick him up at 11:30, sharp. _

_As he began walking along the path to the front door, he noticed he had arrived at roughly the same time as another nation. Watching the blond foreigner step down from the white carriage, he held out his hand and a smaller, lady-type hand took it immediately. Ah, it was Vash and his younger sister. _

_As the two walked up to Roderich's house side by side, Arthur removed his hat and bowed, taking the younger girl's hand as she passed and kissed it politely, smirking. His green eyes practically glowed, cat-like, in the fading light of the day, and the girl trembled under the older nation's touch. "Hello, young lady. I do hope you have a lovely time tonight."_

_The Swiss took his sister by the arm, nodded curtly to Arthur, before tugging the girl away from the offending nation. _

_Straightening his back and putting his hat back upon his head, he followed behind them by a few meters, and entered the house with them after one of Roderich's servants opened the door. Walking in, he was a bit startled as he heard a loud Frenchman's laugh._

"_Honhonhonhon! Look who it is, mon Anglais préféré!"_

_Arthur smirked at the taller man, noticing that his hair was a tad shorter than it had been since the last time he saw him, but not by much. Removing his hat once more, he bowed the the Frenchman, and snickered. "Interesting style, Frog-face. Your cravat is crooked." The small group of nations Francis had been chatting with chuckled as the Frenchman struggled to straighten it back out. _

_Roderich came over to them, greeting the Englishman lavishly. Arthur was used to high treatment, considering who he was an all, and it pleased him greatly to have his ego fed. It really did amuse him to have lesser countries strive to impress him. Roderich's greeting was short, however, as he moved to go sit down by the piano and start playing music, the very pretty Hungarian girl that was Elizaveta moved to sit beside him._

_Walking off to one side of the room, Francis and Arthur leaned against the wall unceremoniously._

"_So, Anglettere, 'ow are you coping with ze loss?"_

"_Loss, what loss do you speak of?"_

"_Don't play sourd-muet with me, Anglettere. I'm speaking of Amerique. Surely you miss 'im, non? It 'as been years since you two 'ave talked, now."_

_Arthur exhaled a huffy breath, batting the Frenchman's shoulder half-heartedly and let out a soft chuckle. "Oh Francis, you are ridiculous. I'm well over that now, as you know. I have moved on, and I'm just pleased that Alfred doesn't know what he's missing out on. If he would have remained with me, he could be coming to parties like this one all the time."_

_Francis smirked, grabbing Arthur's hand and kissing it chastely, whispering,"You know zat isn't true, you'd never let 'im go anywhere with you, you cold-'earted liar."_

_Blushing slightly, he twined his fingers with the older nation and whispered back,"You're probably right."_

**.::. **

_Being shoved against a wall wasn't the best feeling in the world, but then again Arthur didn't really care._

_He had been invited to visit Francis strictly for business purposes, so the Englishman happily and hastily obliged. With all the paperwork he was required to bring for the occasion, he had left his house in his new automobile, impressing the poorer people in his country who did not own one._

_Upon arriving at the Frenchman's door, he had rapped on it with his pale knuckles, calling out,"Wine-loving frog, you've got company!"_

_The flamboyant blond nation had thrown open the door, smirking that devilish smirk of his. It took Arthur a total of four seconds before he laughed, crying out,"Your stubble! Finally decided that shaving was a good thing, Francis? I'll admit you look less like a peasant now."_

_Gesturing for the shorter nation to enter, he flashed a toothy grin and chuckled back in response,"Anglettere, I think zat is ze nicest thing you 'ave ever said to me!"_

_Both of the nations moved into the sitting room were a fancy bottle of wine and two glasses were waiting. Arthur noticed that Francis did not have any paperwork or pens lying out, and wondered why he wasn't prepared. Deciding to begin the task, Arthur shuffled through the papers he had tucked under his arm and cleared his throat,"Well, I guess we should start off by discussing-"_

"_'ow incredibly 'andsome you look right now?"_

_The Englishman froze, narrowing his venomous green eyes. Had the Frenchman just said what he thought he'd said? _

"_It's rude to interrupt people while they are speaking, frog, and with such an amusing comment! I _thought _I was supposed to be here on business?"_

_Suddenly, he felt himself being pushed until his back hit the wall behind him. It didn't hurt, of course, but it startled him and caused a flash of fear to run through his eyes. The taller Frenchman had an arm pinned on either side of him, his face dangerously close._

"_Oh Anglettere, I think you need to stop thinking about ze work. We will get to it later, non?"_

_That's when he felt lips touch his own, lips that were strong and demanding and slightly chapped but nonetheless very nice. At first, Arthur could feel his body tensing up, all of his muscles refusing to work as he struggled against the Frenchman, his breath smelling of wine. Of course, after a few minutes of this, he finally gave up and began to kiss Francis back as his eyes fell shut._

_When he opened his eyes again, they were looking directly into blue._

_Blue eyes._

_He used to love blue eyes, he used to think that blue eyes were gorgeous and amazing and anyone who had them was very lucky. Looking into the Frenchman's eyes, he did not feel that same jealous warmth. His eyes were frosty, the blue looking a bit too piercing as it stared back into green. They needed to be a bit darker, a bit happier._

_They needed to be like Alfred's._

_Upon this realization, he felt his stomach flip. He most certainly did _not_ want to think about Alfred now, so he began kissing the Frenchman all the more passionately with his eyes glued shut, and received a happy smirk in return._

_It all moved very fast as the first few top buttons of his shirt were ripped away, scattering all over the floor. The large man bent down, kissing and nipping the smaller nation's neck wildly, causing the Englishman to emit a few small moans of pleasure. Francis' wandering mouth moved down to his collar bone, nibbling, and enjoyed how the smaller man froze and shivered underneath him._

"_Anglettere, we could move zis to ze bedroom if you would like."_

"_No! No, j-just... Here is fine..."_

_As he felt his pants being tugged from his hips, he buried his face in Francis' neck, unable to voice what he truly wanted to say. He wasn't ready for this, he wasn't sure he wanted to be in this type of commitment with his best frienemy, but the words would not come to his mouth. Perhaps Arthur thought he would look weak if he complained to the older nation, so he bit his tongue – literally – and forced himself to enjoy it._

_He _would _enjoy it. He _would _love it._

_He _would _scream Francis' name, even though every night he spent alone he had called out a different one._

_As he felt foreign finger's invade his body, he let out a strangled cry, clutching the Frenchman tighter. Francis snickered, but it wasn't in a vicious way, and began whispering sweet nothings that both of them knew meant nothing to either of them at the moment._

_Then another finger was added, and Arthur gritted his teeth, biting down on Francis' shoulder. Francis was chuckling, whispering,"Calm down, Anglettere. It'll feel très bon soon." Arthur doubted that, but tried to hold his tongue, refusing to make noises of neither pleasure nor pain._

_After another minute, Francis breathed a soft,"This will hurt, Anglettere," before taking his own pants off. Arthur cried out as something much larger than a finger entered him, and he felt tears spring into his eyes. The pain was excruciating, and he could feel Francis trembling as he tried to hold onto his self control._

_'_I like this_' Arthur thought determinedly, letting a small moan leave his lips. '_I have to like this. I like Francis. I love Francis. I want Francis to do this to me._' He knew he was lying to himself, but it was better than facing the truth. More tears sprung into his eyes as the Frenchman began moving faster against him, but it didn't hurt anymore._

"_D-Does it... Still 'urt? I can slow down..."_

"_N-No. I-I'm fine, pl... please keeping going, Francis..."_

_He _would _love him._

**.::.**

_Leaning across the table, Francis was smiling at Arthur like he was God or something. It somewhat irked the Englishman, but he enjoyed the look nonetheless, very aware of the way the waitresses kept looking at Francis and wondering why such a handsome man was with a bushy-browed Brit. _

"_You see Anglettere? French food is delicious, non? Eat to your 'earts content, mon amour. You are getting far too skinny."_

_Arthur ate the food, somewhat enjoying the taste, even though he preferred his country's food better. The couple were in France again, after establishing a relationship with the other roughly two months ago. The French restaurant was very crowded, but Francis had managed to get them a secluded table near the back and far from the door. They were dangerously close to the smoking section of the restaurant, and that made Arthur crave a cigarette._

_He was always embarrassed when he was alone with the loud Frenchman. The older of the two always seemed to show Arthur off, as if he were a prize he'd just won. Of course, it did make the Englishman feel a bit special, a bit more loved. Love... He craved it more than cigarettes or alcohol or meetings with his magical friends. _

"_I just don't want to get overweight, I do have an image to maintain, you know."_

"_Oh, but mon Anglais magnifique, you are perfect ze way you are no matter 'ow much you weigh. You believe me when I say zat, don't you?"_

_Arthur nodded, his gaze sweeping over the people in the restaurant with mild interest. He hated it when Francis complimented him, because he knew very well that a lot of the compliments were lies. The Englishman knew that if he was fat, or if he was ugly, or if he got into some horrible accident that left him blind or mute or with a half-burned face or arms, Francis would dump him in a heartbeat to find someone more beautiful. Someone that could match him._

_All those thoughts made Arthur a bit nauseous._

_Taking another bite of whatever the hell he was eating, he looked back to Francis to find him staring at the Brit. Arthur blushed and began slowly,"H-Hey, Frog?" _

_Smirking and raising a perfectly-sculpted eyebrow, the Frenchman replied,"Oui, what is it?"_

_Setting down his fork, Arthur patted his face with a napkin, trying to buy time and collect his thoughts. After placing the napkin back down on his lap, he continued,"Well, let's say... Hypothetically... What would you do if I was... I don't know... Caught in a house fire and half of my face got burned beyond repair and caused me to look absolutely hideous. What would you do?"_

_From the look in Francis' eyes, Arthur dejectedly knew the answer._

"_Don't be ridiculous, mon Anglais drôle, that would never 'appen with me around! In any case, why should I 'ave to _do_ something? I would 'elp you the best I could and stay by your side."_

_Those words sounded sweet, but the look in those piercing blue eyes were not. He looked half-mortified, and half-humored. Arthur could tell he was lying, he could just tell. And it hurt worse than being alone._

**.::.**

"_Anglettere! Je prie de vous, please tell me why you are doing zis!"_

_Arthur stood rigid. It's funny how it only now just occurred to him that Francis had never once called Arthur by his real name, his human name, not even during sex. Arthur almost called it "making love" but then he remembered that he didn't love Francis and he knew Francis didn't love him, and it was never tender, just demanding and quick._

"_Francis, I've enjoyed being with you, really I have. I just think it's time we saw other people."_

_The Frenchman wasn't crying, not that Arthur expected him to. Instead, he was glaring at Arthur with those terrible piercing eyes, and if looks could kill, the Englishman would be dead._

"_'ow _dare _you break up with me! I am perfect, I 'ave done so much for you, I 'ave given you everything I 'ave to offer! I wanted to spend ze rest of my life with you, Anglettere! Please, do not do this! S'il vous plait, je t'aime!"_

_Half-wishing he hadn't invited the Frenchman to his house in order to do this, Arthur sighed, standing from the chair he had been sitting in since Francis arrived. He walked over to Francis, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears, and gently placed a hand on the taller nation's shoulder._

"_Francis, you and I both know..."_

_He couldn't really finish that sentence, and felt he really didn't need to either. Francis tugged away from the shorter nation, his anger becoming more violent and seething._

"_You are just breaking up with me because of Amerique, aren't you? You cannot 'ide it, Anglettere, I see ze way you look at 'im when 'e comes to ze meetings. I see ze way your eyes travel over 'is body as if 'e is some sort of sexy thing that you can't 'elp but obsess over! You do not want me because you would rather 'ave 'im!"_

_Narrowing his green eyes, the British gentleman could no longer stay calm as he fired back,"That's not true! That's not true and you _know _it! I'm leaving you because I know you don't love me for who I am, you just like the fact that I'm mildly attractive and I'm easy to get in bed! If I was unimpressive and I never let anyone touch me, but still had the same personality and interests, you wouldn't like me in the least!"_

_Fuming, the Frenchman walked back to the front door with hard, determined steps._

"_We will see, Anglettere! Just wait until the day you two are a couple, all wrapped up in sweet amour! You will see that _I _am right and _you_ are a lying hypocrite!" _

_With a loud slam, Francis was gone._

_As he heard Francis' car speed away, he locked the front door and moved numbly back into his living room. Sitting down meekly back onto the chair, he let his face fall into his hands as sobs racked his whole body, causing him to tremble and shake with pain._

_Was he a hypocrite? _

_That question didn't need an answer. He knew he was._

_He had accused Francis of not loving him, but in reality he had not loved the flamboyant Frenchman either. Wondering why he even bothered with trying to fall in love with such a loud, disgusting, snobby, self-centered pig, Arthur decided tonight would be a good night to go out drinking with a friend. Picking up the phone that sat on the near-by table, he dialed the memorized number and waited until that familiar voice answered._

"_Gilbert?" Arthur asked, keeping his voice in check. "Are you free tonight?"_

**.::.**

Arthur was rubbing tears out of his eyes now, curled up in a small ball on the American's couch. Alfred watched him, but made no move to comfort him, and instead just looked on in silence.

"A-After that," Arthur concluded weakly,"I just gave up... I thought no one would ever care about me again. Francis... He's a great guy, don't get me wrong but..."

He trailed off, gazing into those familiar blue eyes that were filled with so much more warmth and compassion than Francis' had been. Oh God, how he loved those eyes, those child-like, beautiful eyes. Arthur uncurled himself from the small ball he had been, rolling onto his knees and crawling towards Alfred with tears still in his eyes. Removing the younger man's glasses, he gently placed a kiss on Alfred's lips.

"... But he wasn't you."

Alfred frowned, pulling the now sobbing man closer to him.

"P-Please don't hate me, Alfred, please! I'm sorry, I should have told you I u-used to b-be with F-Francis! I'm sorry!"

"Hush Artie, it's ok."

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

Gently stroking his former mentor's hair, Alfred shifted them so that Arthur was now in his lap, tucked securely against his chest. The older nation calmed down after a few minutes, and moved his head so that is ear was on Alfred's heart, listening to it beat. Chuckling slightly, Alfred whispered,"You don't have to apologize, Arthur. I mean, as much as I hate to hear about all that stuff you and Francis did together and how you sounded to miserable, that's the past. You have me now. Those nations don't matter anymore, it was the past and there is nothing that we can do about it. You love me, don'tcha, Artie?"

As Alfred wiped the last remaining tears from the shorter man's eyes, Arthur sniffed and huffed,"My name is _Arthur_, not Artie."

With a loud laugh, Alfred leaned down and kissed Arthur gently on the cheek, feeling a bit pleased. Arthur had always wanted – no, that's wrong – Arthur always _needed _him, and now that Alfred was there, the Englishman didn't have to be sad anymore.

"And... of course I love you, you git."

**Author's Endnote: Well, is it just me or is Arthur always OOC when I type for him? I guess I just like to picture him behind the tsundere image he's created for himself, as if being in a relationship kind lets his guard down, you know? Anyways, yeah... FruK... Yuck. I mean, if you like FruK, I'm not trying to offend you at all! I kinda like the FACE family, even though I prefer UsUk. It just pissed me off because when I write M rated things for UsUk I just CAN'T unless I FORCE it down my own throat, but for them I did it without batting an eyelash.**

**Don't expect more of it in the future.**

**Hmm yup, this story is lame. You know I think my oldest, worst story has the most faves out of all of the fics I've submitted? It makes me feel pretty lame. I went back and re-read it like a week ago and my eyes almost threw up. Seriously.**

**And if you liked this story, Reviews make me SO happy! I always get nervous before I read them but I guarantee I read every single Review I get and I usually reply to most of them, unless I'm tired lol. I proof-read this like ten times, so if you see any spelling/grammar mistakes, oh God I'm sorry D: Thank you so much for reading!**


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